Meeting Mister Lupin
by ssvensson429
Summary: Teddy Lupin stays with his grandfather the summer before 5th year. He wants his father and feels at the same time that he has to be like Remus to be liked. Lyall wants his son and to be as Remus-like as he can be-for his grandson's sake. They realize neither of them will ever be Remus, nor do they need to be to get along. Characters not mine (belong to JK).
1. Chapter 1

**June, 2013**

Teddy Lupin was a stubborn boy. When he was five, his grandmother had asked him to brush his teeth and rather than obey, he instead squeezed the toothpaste all over his light brown hair. When he was ten, rather than watch his little 'cousin' James while Harry ran to the store, he purposefully closed his eyes the entire time his godfather was gone—though, he never let go of little James' hand. When he was fifteen, Teddy Lupin was invited to spend the summer in Bretagne with his grandfather, Lyall Lupin. This, of course, prompted an argument in the Potters' kitchen.

"I _don't_ _want_ to go," Teddy said flatly, his amber eyes glaring at his godfather. Harry glared right back at the boy.

"I don't really care if you don't want to go," Harry responded curtly. "Your grandfather is an incredibly nice man who just wants to get to know his grandson."

"But it's not fair!" Teddy complained. "I live with old people all the time," he said, referencing his childhood with his grandmother Andromeda. "Summers are supposed to be for staying with you and my cousins. I don't _want_ to hang out with some 80-year old man in the middle of _nowhere_ in France," He groaned.

"Your grandfather loves you, Teddy, and he hasn't seen you in ten years. This is your chance to ask him anything you want about your father—you'll learn more than I even knew. Do you know how lucky you are?" Harry asked, seething a bit. Teddy rolled his eyes.

"What, to have two dead parents? Yeah, _real_—"

"You listen to me," Harry said, sticking his finger into Teddy's chest. "Your parents are dead—you can't play that card with me. But you have two grandparents who love you—do you think I had that? My only living family _detested_ me, and here you are with family members begging to see you and you what, turn up your nose at the opportunity?" Harry sighed. He hated that Teddy would never know his parents, and he hated using the fact that he had gone through the same thing against the boy. But fifteen-year-old Harry would have lept at the opportunity to meet his father's father and ask him all sorts of questions about young James. "Look, Teddy—"

"I'll go," the boy muttered. "Alright? I'll go. But I don't know what you're expecting to come from this," He added bitterly. "I'm not going to have some epiphany."

"I don't expect you to," Harry said quietly, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs. "I just think you should get to know the family you do have, since there's nothing any of us can do to know the people who have left us."

Teddy absolutely hated when his godfather did this—make him feel guilty for what he had said prior. "I'll make an effort, alright? I'm sure my grandfather has had a hard life; I don't need to make it worse." Teddy shuffled his feet, looking at the ground. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Teddy," Harry insisted. "Really. I can understand this is hard—Lyall isn't your father. I just don't want you to miss this opportunity before it's gone. People don't live forever." Teddy snorted darkly.

"Or much at all, for us at least."

With that, Teddy jogged up the stairs and to the room he stayed in with James in the summer.

"Stupid France," Teddy muttered under his breath. "Don't even _know _French."

"Are you leaving, Teddy?" Asked James, peering around the corner. "I heard you and dad yelling."

"We weren't yelling," Teddy said calmly, rolling his eyes. "We were just having a discussion is all. A discussion in which I behaved like a right prat and your father tried to set me straight." James chuckled, and Teddy knew the nine-year-old (or was he ten? Teddy couldn't remember) would likely be having many similar discussions with Harry.

"So what's happening?" James chirped. "Are you leaving me here with…" His nose scrunched up. "Albus?" Teddy pursed his lips and sighed, patting the messy, dark brown hair of the young boy.

"Unfortunately, yes. But cheer up: you get to stay here. I have to hang out with my grandfather, who's over eighty. Talk about old farts, huh?" Teddy grinned. "You'll have a much better time here with Albus. You're lucky to have a brother," He added, nearly cursing himself for sounding exactly like Harry had downstairs. "Anyway, I need to pack. Want to help?"

James shook his head. "Nah, sounds boring. I think I'll pester Da downstairs." And with that, James had vacated the room, leaving Teddy to pack all by himself. He walked in, an sat on his bed with a sigh. Truthfully, he didn't mind hanging out with older folks: they knew how to make a good pot of tea and were quiet enough for Teddy to actually get some of his homework done—a quality the Potter household did not have. No, what he had been truly worried about was actually meeting his grandfather again. Sure, he had visited once when he was five, but Teddy could hardly remember the man, except for the faint smell of lavender from the garden at his new house in France, where he had moved after the war. But since that time, Teddy had tried to imagine Lyall Lupin to be as similar to his own father, Remus, as possible. He had memorized what his parents had looked like and liked to create personalities for them based off what others had said. He knew his mother was free-spirited, clumsy, a metamorphogus, and a Hufflepuff—like him. His father had been an old soul, bookish, but clever prankster—and a werewolf to top it all off. Teddy always wished he could embody more of his father's qualities, but other than a penchant for Defense Against the Dark Arts and some mild irritability around the full moon, nothing that he knew of. His worries were entirely centered around the fact that his grandfather might not be enough like his father and that he would be disappointed, but also that he himself wouldn't be enough like Remus to make Lyall happy. And with this came guilt—the guilt that perhaps his grandfather had done exactly what Teddy himself did and created a whole persona for his grandson that may or may not have been true. And that by visiting, Teddy was forever shattering that image.

_Still_, Teddy thought, _it would be nice to learn more about Dad_. Harry was the resident expert on all things Remus Lupin, but even _he_ didn't know much. Conversely, Teddy knew just about everything there was to know about his mother, whose friends and family were still very much alive. Talking to Lyall Lupin, the man who raised his father, would be like finding the Holy Grail of Remus Lupin Knowledge. Maybe in discovering more about his father, Teddy would realize they had more similarities than he thought. And that would mean everything to the boy. He wanted so much to be like his parents—not because he missed them, because you can't miss what you've never known. It was for the people who _did_ miss them. Teddy couldn't be sure if he was clumsy like his mother from birth, or if because every time he tripped Andromeda smiled. He knew for a fact that the only reason he was good at Defense was due to his hours of practice. Once, Teddy helped his Herbology Professor, Neville Longbottom, with a Boggart that had made itself home in Neville's office. Teddy would never forget the look on his professor's face when he shouted '_Ridikulus!'_ and Teddy's worst fear—a crystal ball, from his accidental encounter with a terrible vision during a work trip with Harry—turned into a balloon that whizzed away and vanished.

Teddy knew he made people happy when he reminded them of Remus and Tonks. And to not be able to do that for his own grandfather…well, it would be more than Teddy could take. But first, he needed to get off his bed and start packing. He needed all of his school things, that was for sure—he had no idea if he would be coming back to the Potters' before heading back to Hogwarts in the fall. He packed back up most of his clothes, wishing he could use magic to do so, and thought about things he would need to keep himself occupied. Books, his muggle Gameboy, a couple of little prank items (just in case, and to also keep them away from James), and his prized possession: his journal, which had originally been his father's (though nothing was written in it). Teddy found the empty thing in his grandmother's house and had taken it as his own, writing his thoughts.

The next few minutes Teddy spent were running around the house, asking various members if they had seen objects of his.

"Albus, did I give _you_ my potions textbook?" Teddy called out.

"Uh…"

"Right, you're six," Teddy grumbled. "Ginny?"

"No, and _quiet_! You'll wake up Lily."

Once the potions book was found—it had been used as a coaster for the past week—Teddy needed to find his toothbrush. And his hairbrush. And his knapsack. _Merlin_, he thought to himself, _I need to do a better job of keeping my things close by_.

"Teddy, do you need this?" James asked, finding Teddy downstairs running about. The dark-haired boy was waving something about in his hands. "It's a magazine, but it's got _girls_ on it—"

"Gimme!" Teddy yelped, reaching for the magazine. James grinned, and pulled it away.

"Daaaad," James sung out. "Teddy's got a _dirty magazine_," He said, snickering.

"James, shut it," Teddy said, his ears turning a bright red with his hair following suit. "I'm not kidding, give it back. How do you even know what that is? You're _nine_!"

"I'm _ten_!" James insisted. "And I'm not daft. I know what this is."

After a promise to teach James how to use the Exploding Whizsnaps and a small amount of begging, Teddy retrieved his light reading and finished packing up his belongings. He lugged his trunk down the Potters' stairs and into the kitchen, where he promptly sat, looking around. He'd miss the place over the summer. The field out back was fantastic for playing with the boys, and the large Oak was Teddy's favorite reading hideaway. The kitchen always smelled warm and inviting, and held many memories of joyful meals with the Potter family. _But now I'm visiting the second-last of the Lupins, _Teddy mused. He had assumed he had no cousins, no aunts or uncles on that side. Rather darkly, he had always assumed his father had been some sort of an outcast on that side. Teddy would never truly understand what his father went through—though he hated being teased for his more 'wolfish' tendencies. Once, a day or two before the full moon, Teddy had unceremoniously chomped down on a rather rare piece of meat. His friends had sniggered, and Teddy, already in a foul mood, erupted in anger. That had shut his friends up, but it didn't help his reputation as the 'son of a werewolf.' He was convinced that some students even though he _was _a werewolf, even though that was ridiculous.

"Are you ready?" Harry called out, walking down the stairs. He had broken Teddy from his reverie.

"As ready as I'll be," Teddy shot back, a little more harshly than he intended. "Sorry," He muttered. "I'm just nervous. I mean…" The boy sighed, hair falling slightly and turning blue. "What if he doesn't like me?"

"Doesn't like you?" Harry asked incredulously. "How could he not? Not a day goes by where that man isn't thinking of you, Teddy. He loves you, and he's made that quite clear. Besides, do you know anyone who doesn't like you?"

Teddy thought for a moment. It was true that he had many friends—as a loyal Hufflepuff, there weren't many students who didn't like him. Besides, having the Chosen One as your godfather never hurt.

"Slytherins," He said with a wolfish grin. "But they don't count." Harry rolled his eyes but didn't correct the boy.

"Then there you have it. You're going to be just fine. And besides," Harry said with a smile, ruffling Teddy's hair until it turned its normal shade of light brown. "You look more and more like your father every day. Healthier, sure, and _much_ happier, but you'll be a pleasant sight in the Lupin household—I can tell you that much."

Teddy beamed. "You…You really think?" He asked. Harry nodded.

"Now, go say your goodbyes to Ginny, Lily and the boys. I'll be waiting down here, and we'll apparate momentarily."

Teddy ran off to give his cousins (including baby Lily) and Ginny their goodbye hugs. He told James to be good to Albus, told Albus where to hide from James, and told Ginny and Lily to hold down the fort for him while he was gone. After one final look in his room, Teddy raced downstairs. "I'm ready, Harry."

His godfather nodded with a smile. "Excellent. Now, grab my hand," Harry ordered, reaching out his palm. "We're heading to 44 Rue d'Arbre, Rennes, Bretagne." Teddy rolled his trunk over and grabbed his godfather's hand, and within a moment, the two were gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Lyall Lupin lived in a little cottage on a small, forgotten road outside of the capital city of Brittany, France. He had done so for nearly as long as Teddy had been alive. With the exception of Teddy, mostly nothing in Britain was worthwhile to Lyall anymore. The majority of his living friends or family had deserted him long ago, when they heard of Remus' affliction. After his son's death, Lyall couldn't stand being in the house that he had shared with his now deceased wife and child. Every hallway was a memory, every moment felt haunting. So, he packed up his things, sold the old house, and moved back to the place he was born: Bretagne. It had been home to Lupins for decades (when Lyall was four, his family had moved to Britain—the first Lupins to do so) and so home it would become for them again.

Lyall had seen his grandson just twice. Once, soon after he was born, and a second time when the boy was five years old. Since then, he received photos and letters from the boy's only other living family member, Andromeda Tonks, but nothing more. It was painful for Lyall to go back to Britain, and the boy hadn't wanted to go to France, so he had to be content with news of his only living kin and nothing more. Lyall had been battling with the desire to see his grandson for years. As much as we wanted to meet Teddy, he wasn't sure that Teddy wanted to meet him. Lyall wasn't Remus. He wasn't half as brave or smart as the boy's father, and he thought of himself as an old, pathetic replacement for his son—why would Teddy be content meeting _him_?

Finally, Lyall couldn't take it any longer: he reached out to Harry Potter, Teddy's godfather, and begged him to ask Teddy to visit. He apologized that it had taken him so long, but that he loved the boy and wanted to get the chance to know him before it was too late. Harry, being the kind son of Remus' friends that he was, immediately said he would be sending Teddy to France for the summer. Lyall couldn't contain his excitement. His fingers had trembled as he read the letter Harry had sent, and he had gone and told all his fellow wizarding neighbors that his grandson—godson of the famous Harry Potter—was coming to visit. Lyall had cleaned the entire house, and put up every picture he had of Teddy so that he would feel more at home. He even put up as many photos of Remus as he could bear, including one of Remus when he had graduated from Hogwarts. The boy was smiling, Sirius Black draping over his shoulder, whispering something in his ear that Lyall wasn't sure he wanted to hear.

"He's coming today," Lyall whispered, dusting the frame. "_Ton fils_." The old man's fingers trembled from nerves. He had made up the guest bedroom what felt like a thousand times, trying to make it perfect. He filled the bookshelves with Remus' favorite books, bought his son's favorite cake from the bakery, and even decorated Teddy's room with as many of Remus' old things as possible, only to then remember that it was entirely possible that Teddy didn't like anything Remus had. _They never met_, Lyall reminded himself. _You can't be disappointed if he's not your son. _Still, it had been too late to change the order to anything other than German Chocolate and Lyall had nothing else any fifteen-year-old boy would want to have. So, Remus' things would have to do.

Lyall checked the clock on the wall in Teddy's room as he dusted—it was nearly noon, and his grandson would be here any moment. Lyall walked as fast as he could down the stairs and into the kitchen to set the cake out to thaw. It was rich and topped with fudge, with a swirl of red icing that read:

_Bienvenue, Teddy !_

The bed was made. The cake was out. All Lyall had to do was wait. Since the weather was nice, he decided to sit out on the front steps, head in his hands, listening to the birds chirp and the breeze rustle the leaves in the nearby oak tree. Minutes went by without sight of Harry and Teddy, and Lyall began to worry. Perhaps something had happened to his grandson? Equally troubling, perhaps Teddy hadn't wanted to come and see him?

At last, Lyall heard a crack and he sat up. There, clear as day, he could have sworn he saw James and Remus in the distance. Lyall smiled sadly, though, because of course James and Remus were dead. Instead, there their sons: Harry, and of course Teddy.

"Teddy!" Lyall croaked. "_Mon petit, venez-ici_!" Lyall slowly stood up, grinning wildly.

Meanwhile, Teddy looked at his godfather. "He knows English, right?" Teddy asked skeptically. Harry nodded.

"Yes…er, at least he writes in it…" Harry said, drifting off. "Mr. Lupin!" He called out, walking towards the house. "Uh…Salute!"

"Salute…" Teddy said softly, pretty sure that was not how you said 'hello.' He followed Harry, dragging his bag, and took in his scene for the summer. It was pretty, Remus had to admit, but the cottage itself looked like it could've been built in the middle ages. It was old and shabby, but its habitant looked younger than what Teddy was imagining. In his grandfather he saw a few similarities to himself—bright, amber eyes, as well as bushy eyebrows that never seemed to un-furrow. Definitely not the gnome-like creature he has conjured up in his head.

"I'm sorry," Lyall said sheepishly, now face to face with his guests. "I forget, you do not speak French. Perhaps I can teach you some, Teddy?" He asked kindly. Teddy simply nodded, still trying to take in what was happening.

"Thank you so much for having him, sir," Harry began. "I know he's looking forward to it—he's normally not this quiet," Harry added, a bit suspicious.

"Please, call me Lyall," the old man began. "And it is I who should be thanking you! A summer with my grandson is an absolute gift." Lyall's eyes twinkled. "Quiet simply means deep in thought—I know that look, I've seen it many times on his father. You both look remarkably like them," Lyall paused, "Your fathers, I mean. I'm sure you get that all the time." Teddy shook his head.

"Not…not often, no. I'm a Metamorphagus, like my mum was. Most people always say I look like her," Teddy explained. Lyall pursed his lips.

"Hmm…I do see a bit of your mother in you, yes. But you are without a doubt a _Lupin_." Lyall seemed a bit lost in thought for a moment, before he clapped his hands and continued. "Well then, let's get you inside, yes? Harry, would you like any tea before you head out?" Harry smiled politely but shook his head.

"No, sir—Lyall," he corrected, "I think I better be off. I left Ginny with the three little ones, I'm sure she'll be needing me." Harry turned to Teddy, ruffling his hair slightly. "You be good to your grandfather and be sure to write—especially for James' sake," Harry said. "We love you very much, Teddy."

"Love you too," The boy mumbled, clearly a bit embarrassed. With a wave and a hug, Harry was gone, and the two Lupin men stood outside. Teddy shifted his feet a bit awkwardly.

"Let's get that bag inside!" Lyall smiled, taking his wand from his pocket and flicking it just so. The large trunk began to float, and Teddy's eyes widened.

"Don't the…Won't the neighbors—"

"All witches and wizards," Lyall assured him. "Though, I'm afraid they don't speak much English. Come on, the offer for tea is still quite literally on the table. Chamomile alright with you?" He asked. Teddy nodded.

"Yes, please," He replied. "Thank you."

Teddy followed his grandfather into the cottage. He wasn't sure what he was expecting from the outside, but it seemed much larger once indoors. Overhead, pennants from French Quidditch teams hung above all sorts of paintings and pictures, many of which seemed to be painted by Lyall himself. A staircase led up to a second floor Teddy hadn't even seen.

"You don't think I would live in a…Oh, I'm forgetting the word…no matter, it's a spell you see. Makes the house appear smaller than it actually is. I don't like to generate much attention, this summer excluded—I told nearly everyone you were coming, so if you see any neighbors around, they might say hello," Lyall explained.

"It's brilliant," Teddy said simply, looking all over the cottage. _Drab no more_, he thought to himself. "So, why France?" The boy asked. Lyall chuckled darkly.

"You want the short version or the long one?" He asked. Teddy shifted a little. He sensed there was more to the move than he thought.

"The _easier _version," He stated. Lyall smiled.

"Ah, yes, very well…I was born in this province. Hardly remember those days, of course, but the Lupins were a French pureblood wizarding family. Family business was slow, and so my parents moved us to Britain, where we've been ever since. I decided after the war I'd like a change of scenery," Lyall said plainly, waving his wand and letting his grandson's trunk slowly drift to the floor. Teddy nodded, though his brows were furrowed.

"What family business?" He asked. Lyall raised his brows.

"No one ever told you? Well, I suppose that makes sense…Remus never liked to speak of it—and for good reason. Teddy," Lyall began, "The Lupins hunted werewolves."

"WHAT?" Teddy yelped. "No, that can't…you've got to be…"

"Joking?" Lyall asked morosely. "No, though I wish I were. Up until the move to Britain that's what everyone did. It's how I got my job in the ministry, where I said certain things I never should've said, which resulted in Remus becoming what he was. It tortured me for _years_. When your father found out he was livid—an adjective I used rarely to describe him. Clearly," Lyall said, in all seriousness, "It's not something I'm proud of. But we can't change the past, we can only move forward. If we Lupins can change our ways, certainly others can change their opinions, _non_?" Lyall asked. Teddy was still pale in shock. "I can see I've upset you," Lyall began, then his eyes widened, "You're not…"

"No," Teddy said, finding his voice. "No, I'm not a werewolf. I do get a bit cranky, though, around the full moon…but it's nothing, really." Lyall smiled.

"Well, it's something to me. I'll be sure not to disturb you—your father was the same. 99% of the time he was a mischievous but angelic boy. During that extra 1% of the time, I kept my distance—as all parents do when their child has a tantrum."

Teddy snorted. Tantrum was one way to describe it. "I knew he was worried about having a child. I guess he thought I would be more like him than he wanted," Teddy said, not quite sure where he was going with the thought. Lyall nodded.

"Yes, he was quite worried. I understood his pain as best I could—lycanthropy is something no parent wishes on their child—but having _not exactly_ given Remus his condition, I couldn't tell him his fears were unfounded without him telling me I didn't understand. Your father was an incredibly unique case. Most werewolves remain unloved, and having a child is never even a thought in their minds," Lyall said rather sadly. Then, he smiled. "Still, it all worked out! You are happy, healthy, and a bright student if I hear correctly. I'm quite proud to be your grandfather—_fier_, it means proud in French."

"Fee-ay," Teddy pronounced, the word sounding strange on his lips. Lyall chuckled.

"Ah, yes! Glad to hear you are proud of me as well," He joked. Teddy smiled. His grandfather seemed quite young at heart—perhaps this summer wouldn't be too dull at all.


	3. Chapter 3

Teddy had been enjoying the quiet, serene environment of the Lupin household. He had managed to get more schoolwork done in two days here than he had in two weeks with the Potters. Given his progress, Teddy decided to take an opportunity to write a letter to Victoire Weasley—the object of his affections. Technically yes; the was the cousin of his 'cousins,' but she certainly wasn't _his_ family, as far as Teddy was concerned. And yes, she was a year younger than himself. But that didn't stop Teddy, who had it instilled in him that age was no object when it came to love. The boy was working at the kitchen table, when he heard what was now becoming a familiar interruption in his day to day life.

"What are you working on?" Lyall asked Teddy, who was fervently writing in his journal. The boy flushed pink, his hair turning a similar shade.

"_Rien_," He muttered, practicing his French, hoping that would steer his grandfather off track. Lyall beamed for a moment, then furrowed his brows, taking a seat next to his grandson.

"I know that look…that's a girl, you're writing to, _non_?" He asked with a smirk. Teddy blushed even more furiously.

"_Non_," He replied curtly, still scribbling away. Lyall paused, then his eyes lit up once more.

"A boy? Really, Teddy, you can be—"

"_Merlin_, no it's not a boy!" Teddy scoffed. "Why would you even ask?"

Lyall was a bit taken aback. He paused a moment, unsure how to respond.

"I just thought…I mean, your father…"

"My father liked _boys_?" Teddy asked, incredulously. "But…But he got _married_!" Teddy exclaimed, dropping his quill. "To _my mum_. For goodness sake, he…well, you know, here I _am_…"

"Teddy," Lyall interjected. "Really, I didn't mean to shock you…I just thought you knew is all. I believe he tended to _jump the border_, if you get what I mean." Teddy's blank expression told Lyall that the boy had no idea. "Well...he was fairly open about it to his friends…though I suppose you never really met them," Lyall said quietly. Teddy was still in shock, until…

"He was?" He asked breathlessly. But in a way…It made sense. In every picture of his father that Lyall had put in Teddy's room—and there were quite a lot—he was always with his friends. But there was one friend he was with more than the others. A shaggy-haired boy. A boy who always had his arm around his father, in every single picture, who was always simply closer to him than the others. "You don't mean…"

"Your father had a type: those who were the opposite of himself. First a Black family boy, then—and I know your mother would recoil at this—a Black family girl. Hope, your grandmother, never really understood…very conservatively British, she was. But she did her best. After all, it's fairly easy to accept anything once you realize your son is a werewolf," Lyall chuckled. It was the same argument Remus had used to explain to her. "Both were spirited, stubborn, and easily offended…traits I see quite clearly in you, if you don't mind my saying."

"Not at all," Teddy assured his grandfather. "I just never thought…I mean, Sirius and my dad were best friends. I thought that was it."

"So did many," Lyall posited. "It was harder for them, back in their time. And your father really did love them both. But I knew it wouldn't last with Sirius. Even with his untimely death, it was never going to be him. I can't put my finger on it…but your mother completed Remus, truly. He was happier than I ever saw him in my entire life. But he reached a new level of joy when he had you. I imagine it was the best month of his life."

Teddy paused. He hadn't thought about that. If his father did love them both, how could his grandfather be so sure? Who was to say that Teddy would have even been born?

"I know what you're thinking," Lyall said. "But I can assure you: Tonks was the only one your father could have ever married—likely because she was the only one with the guts to make him see that he should be as happy as he deserved to be. I don't mean to put your father in a melodramatic light—he was, mostly, happy—but he always had a certain sadness to him. Now, enough about that bugger—who is the lucky lady?" Lyall asked, winking. Teddy groaned. He really thought they had been derailed.

"Er…Her name is Victoire."

"Victoire! She must be French! Well, you're going to need to do a lot better than some love note for her. You need more romance, my boy!"

"Romance?" Teddy gulped. That was not his strong suit. He had been working on writing the beautiful blonde a letter for well over a month, and had scrapped all of his drafts. "I…I don't know…"

"Nonsense," Lyall scoffed. "You're a Lupin! We have the greatest love stories of all, and they certainly don't begin with a _letter_. You must have some ideas," Lyall insisted. Teddy shrugged, his face and hair still bright pink.

"Uh…" He began, furrowing his brows in thought. "She likes…flowers?"

"Yes!" Lyall cheered, grabbing a sheet of parchment and Teddy's quill. He wrote down _fleurs _in an elegant script. "An excellent start: you enchant the letter, have flowers spring forth with each word she reads," Lyall said romantically. "That's what I did with Hope—she had never seen such a thing, and not just because she was a Muggle. What else?"

"Er…Chocolate?" Teddy prompted. "Everyone likes chocolate, right?"

"Excellent!" Lyall exclaimed, back to his vigorous writing. "We'll buy her the finest chocolates this side of Paris, enclose them within. This is a great foundation for your first letter."

"My…first?" Teddy nearly choked on his own words. "You mean, there's more?"

"Of _course_ there's more!" Lyall roared. "You don't expect that one letter with chocolates and flowers will be enough, do you? _Merlin_, what have you been learning all these years?" Teddy simply shrugged. Clearly, whatever he said would not be enough for his grandfather.

"Well, if you're so wise, what should I write?" Teddy quipped. Lyall laughed.

"Oh, you're not going to write anything. You clearly need guidance—let me help you."

Lyall raced upstairs—well, raced as fast as any eighty-two-year-old could—and came back down with a pink sheet of parchment that smelled vaguely of roses. Teddy had never seen anything like it in his whole life and couldn't help but think how much his friends would be making fun of him if they knew what he was spending his summer doing with his grandfather. But he had to smile. The enthusiasm Lyall showed was more than Teddy could take with a straight face, and he wondered how much of his own father's luck in love was a result of Lyall Lupin. With new parchment and a new bottle of ink, the two Lupin men became hard at work crafting the perfect letter to send to Victoire. Teddy did, to his credit, have the occasional good idea every now and then, which always led to Lyall shouting some form of praise which echoed throughout the cottage and likely into the neighbors' homes as well. Finally, after nearly an hour of work, the two were done.

"Read it to me," Lyall said. "With conviction."

Teddy flushed, and, after clearing his throat, began to read:

_Dearest Victoire,_

_Spending the summer in France, I could say that it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen._

"Grandpa, this is—"

"Keep reading!" Lyall bellowed.

_That would, however, be a lie. For even the sun setting over the beautiful countryside pales in comparison to the sight of you. It seems almost cruel, that I should be here and not able to fully enjoy the beauty around me, for my days are spent imagining you. The sound of the wind rustling through the trees is cacophonous compared to the allure of your voice. The sun, however bright, is dark when compared to your sharp wit. Even the songs of the birds can bring me no joy, knowing that you and I are apart._

_Ma _

"Grandpa, I don't know how to read this, it's in French," Teddy complained. Lyall rolled his eyes.

"Then I will continue for you," He said matter-of-factly.

_Ma Cherie, t'est l'amour de ma vie. La seule rose dans le jardin de mon couer. _

"There, that wasn't hard," Lyall said. Teddy was shocked.

"But I don't even know what it means!" He yelped. "We can't send something I don't understand."

"Oh?" Lyall said, rather offhandedly. "Well, you tell me…do you have eyes for anyone other than Victoire?" He asked. Teddy shook his head. "And," Lyall continued, "Do you think she enjoys nature, flowers, and beauty?"

"Well, who doesn't?" Argued Teddy.

"Then there you have it! They're your intentions, simply…better," Lyall said, too proud of his work to search for a different word. Teddy looked somewhat offended, but knew arguing would get him nowhere.

"Alright, alright, then I'll continue reading."

_Until we meet again, I'll be only thinking of you._

_Yours,_

_Edward_

"No one calls me Edward," Teddy insisted. "I've never gone by that a day in my life."

"But you must admit," Lyall insisted, "It sounds far more romantic that the idea of a teddy bear."

"But that's what she calls me!" Teddy exclaimed, then his eyes widened when he realized what he had done.

"You never told me she had a pet name for you!" Lyall exclaimed. "How could you leave this out? This is crucial information—here," Lyall grabbed the parchment, waved his wand, and changed the signature. Teddy looked over to see what his grandfather had written and groaned.

_Your Teddy Bear_

"Absolutely not!" Teddy yelled. "No way, there is no way I'm sending this," He told his grandfather. "Please, _please_ don't do this to me."

"Well I'm not _daft_, my boy," Lyall scoffed. "Clearly, we won't be sending this. Not without including a teddy bear with the owl, holding a little box of chocolates to its heart."

"Grandpa!"

A few days later, an owl arrived to the Weasley house. Victoire broke out in tears, her mother Fleur finding her with the letter, chocolates, flowers, and of course, the teddy bear.

"Victoire!" Fleur called out, wondering what had befallen her fourteen-year-old daughter. "Qu'est-il arrive?"

"It's…it's Teddy," Victoire managed between her sobs. "I had _no_ idea…he's so _romantic_…"


	4. Chapter 4

Teddy was fuming, and he didn't know why. He was in the most peaceful place he had ever been, with the most cheerful, pleasant man he had ever met. Yet since he had woken up that morning, all he had done was snap at Lyall. The tea was too hot. The chocolate in his pancakes too rich. The sun was too bright, the birds chirping too loudly. None of it had made sense: until he looked at the calendar.

_Oh,_ Teddy thought to himself. _The full moon is tomorrow._ That would explain it. The days leading up to and following the full moon were the only days that affected Teddy in a similar way as they had affected his father: mood swings, aching joints, everything but the transformation itself. It was as if buried deep down there was some canine waiting for a chance to escape that would never come.

Lyall, of course, knew all of this. He hadn't taken offense when Teddy yelled at him at breakfast, nor did he mind when the boy decided to spend most of the morning locked in his room, stomping around like an elephant. It was simply that time of the month, Lyall thought with a smile. The boy couldn't help it. Eventually, Lyall knew that Teddy would learn to control his temper around this time. But he was also a fifteen year old with barely half the self-control his father had at his age—something Lyall attributed entirely to Nymphadora Tonks. Eventually, Teddy had lugged himself back downstairs, furiously scribbling in his father's old journal. Lyall sat at the kitchen table alongside him, silently reading the newspaper. French wizards could be seen on the cover angrily gesticulating about some new policy. Lyall peered over the paper and chuckled.

"Your father did the same thing—I would often see him writing in that journal the days leading up to the moon."

Teddy froze, and looked up from his writing.

"Not this, journal. It's empty. I wouldn't be writing in it otherwise," He spat, rolling his eyes. Lyall proceeded calmly.

"Well, he always cast enchantments on his writing, my boy. To make his own scrawl invisible. You're writing on the very pages your father once wrote on himself."

Teddy paused. Lyall assumed his was deep in thought, but Teddy's hair turned a violent shade of red and he cast the book on the ground, his eyes narrowing.

"HE WHAT!" Teddy yelled, standing up.

"Now, Teddy, please stay calm—"

"NO!" Teddy screamed. "All this time, ALL THIS TIME, I have been writing over what could be the last words I'll ever see from my father? Are you DAFT? How could you let me do this?!"

"Teddy, now wait—"

"No, YOU WAIT! _Honestly_, I don't know how you can be so _calm_. He's your son, aren't you upset?" Teddy asked, fuming. Lyall simply smiled and shook his head.

"Teddy, what I've been trying to tell you—thought I am not upset you interrupted—" Lyall added, "—Is that yes, you're writing over his words, but they aren't gone: a simple charm should be able to switch the journal from his writing to yours and back. Now, if you wouldn't mind picking up the journal, we can get to the bottom of this." Lyall smiled at his grandson, whose hair returned to its normal light-brown. Teddy gingerly picked the journal, and then sat back down at the table. "Very good," Lyall said cheerfully. "Now," he began, taking out his wand, "Let's see what a good ol' fashioned charm can do for us, _non_?"

"_Revelio,"_ Lyall whispered. The pages Teddy had been writing on turned blank. Teddy looked like he was about to say something angry, but Lyall simply held up a hand, asking him to wait. Eventually, a fanciful scrawl began to appear on the page, and Lyall began to read:

_"Mr. Moony kindly asks his father to keep out of his private thoughts—for Mr. Moony's sake as well as that of the elder Mr. Moony. _

_Furthermore, he is appalled that the elder Mr. Moony would even consider showing Mr. Moony's own son the contents of this journal. He understands the importance of remembering the dead, but he would like to impress upon the remaining Messers. Moony that the inner workings of his teenage mind are of no importance and should remain in the 1970s._

_His is loath to add that Mrs. Moony, however, would object to this line of reasoning, and suggests that if the young Mr. Moony is brave enough (though, not brave enough to follow in his father's footsteps in Gryffindor), he need only search his thoughts, looking within himself, and he will discover how to read the contents of these pages."_

Teddy stared at the page in shock. Lyall chuckled.

"Remus used to put these spells on everything, once he figured out _how_ that is. I'm not surprised he used it here, but I am surprised he never bothered to mention that his _own_ father was in Hufflepuff and was quite dismayed that his only son didn't follow in _his_ footsteps."

Teddy was beginning to see where Mr. Moony got his style of writing from.

"What does that mean…'search my thoughts.' Search my thoughts for what? I never knew him!" Teddy exclaimed. "How can I search my thoughts for things that don't exist? I don't know a _thing _about my father, no thanks to _him_ and these bloody spells," Teddy said angrily, shoving the journal off of the table. "He's absolutely unbelievable," Teddy muttered, his voice beginning to crack. "Can't he realize this is all I've got left of him?"

"All you've…Teddy, my boy," Lyall said softly, "That journal isn't all you have left of your father. _You_ are."

Teddy paused, eyes red, to look at his grandfather.

"I don't know what you're talking about," He croaked, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

"Teddy," Lyall began, all mirth gone from his face, "You are very much your own person. You say and do things neither of your parents would—as fun as it would be for me to enjoy the company of Remus again, that's not you, and it shouldn't need to be. You're enough for anyone, and any resemblance you have to your father is just that—_resemblance_. But I'd be lying if I said he wouldn't find within you a kindred spirit. You are so much like your father in ways I can't begin to describe—in English _or_ in French. So all this nonsense about having nothing left to remember him by is just that—nonsense. I love you because of who you are—my grandson, Teddy Lupin. A boy I've thoroughly enjoyed getting to know. But I also love you because you are my Remus' son."

Teddy still felt tears rolling down his face, but for an entirely different reason. He was _enough_. He was enough for the one person he thought he would never be enough for.

"It doesn't matter if you never find out how to read that journal," Lyall continued slowly. He knew how out of sorts the boy must have felt. "Because you'll read it and think you could've written it yourself."

_Yourself._

The words echoed in Teddy's subconscious. His eyes widened, the tears stopped. "Myself," Teddy whispered. "Grandpa, what's the word for myself in French?" Lyall was perplexed.

"Er…Moi-même, but Teddy…" Lyall drifted off, thinking, before his eyes widened and he came to the same conclusion as his grandson. The elder Lupin took his wand from his pockets and picked the journal up off the ground, tapping the journal lightly and whispering:

"_Moi-même."_

Before their eyes, the fanciful scrawl retreated and the simple penmanship of a young boy appeared on the pages.

"Property of Remus J. Lupin," Teddy read. This was it. His father's journal: finally revealed to him. The boy looked to his grandfather, who merely smiled.

"Go, on, it's yours now," He said softly.

"You don't…You don't want to read it?" Teddy asked rather meekly. Lyall felt conflicted: he missed his son terribly. He wanted nothing more than to hear his voice in his head once more. But he knew had his son been alive, Lyall never would've thought about reading his personal thoughts. They were Remus'. The elder Lupin shook his head slowly.

"No, I think I've had more opportunities to know Remus than anyone else—enough for a lifetime. These are words for you to read, and you alone—I've had enough," He said quietly, then cleared his throat. "Besides, no father wants to read his sons inner thoughts and Remus certainly made it clear that the journal is not for me," He said with a smile. Teddy looked like he was about to jump out of his pants. "Go on, read it. I'll be here when you're done," Lyall promised. Teddy grinned and snatched the journal.

"Thank you, Grandpa," He said hurriedly, running off to the large oak in the yard to climb up and read. Lyall smiled: Remus preferred to read amongst the trees as well.

Teddy began to open the journal and do what he always did when he read: flip to the last page, to see if he could work out the end backwards. He knew it didn't work with journals, but it was a habit of his. What he hadn't expected to see was a date far after his father's teenage years:

_March 3, 1998_

Teddy furrowed his brows, and began to read the following passage in his father's journal.

_I can't believe I'm writing in this thing again after all these years, but my lovely wife Dora seemed to find my journal and with the ease she seemed to do so, I figured I'd better take precautions. She also reminded me that if she could read my journal, so could our future child. I find it best not to argue with women who are eight months pregnant and so I'm writing this in case my future child (who I pray will be a son, don't tell Dora) does happen to find this. Any son of mine will surely skip to the last page of the book he reads, perhaps to make sure his favorite characters are still alive and well, perhaps for an entirely different reason, so, congratulations son. If you've gotten this far you know what a sniveling, worrying, sorry for myself prat I was all these years. I hope you'll forgive me, but you have to understand I was a child. I didn't know any better. You're probably thinking to yourself that the man you know now is so entirely different; happier, less bothersome I hope. That is, if we survive this war, which surely Dora will, but in case I don't I suppose this is the place to leave some words of wisdom. If I'm alive, which I hope I will be to see the amazing man I'm sure you are, then you can disregard this nonsense and find me right away so I can burn this book and everything in it. But I'm ever the planner, so here it goes: I haven't met you yet, and perhaps I never will. But you must know how very loved you are. If you were born with my affliction, I must apologize; it was never my intention to have a child (no matter how often Padfoot and Prongs seemed to tell me I'd be an excellent father). All this being said, I'm so utterly grateful that you exist, and as selfish as this sounds I don't even care if you did inherit my nastier side._

_That's not true, I take it back. I would care, but not as much as I would care for you. As I already care for you; I can tell you're trouble the way you kick up a storm in your mother and I have to admit I find your mischief delightful. You must understand that regardless of who or what you become, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me: better than Hogwarts, better than my wonderful parents (my father is quite enamored with your existence already, and I'm sure already planning to abscond to France with you), better than all of it that's come before. And I've had a truly wonderful life, all things considering._

_But I'm getting off track: this is supposed to be wisdom, and here I am rattling off about who knows what. I suppose my death is making me nervous. For my first kernel of wisdom, I have to impart on you the importance of love and finding it. Life without love is truly nothing at all, and regardless of who you choose to love, I hope they make you as happy as your mother has made me. My life would be meaningless without her. If you find her equivalent in your eyes, please, for me, don't let them go._

_As for my second kernel...don't underestimate your friends. For better or worse, they can surprise you in ways you never found possible. Not all of your friends will be best friends, and some of them may turn out to be good for nothing rats who don't deserve the mercy they've received. Don't tell Harry, but I would've gladly killed Peter on the spot. Maybe that's the monster in me talking, and here I go rambling again, but I mean it. But for every Peter there is a Sirius Black: a man who was for quite some time much more than a friend, but who I can assure you was never the one for me. Still, he was the best friend I ever had, and I'm forever grateful for the years he was in my life. Find someone like him, and you will be happy._

_I must next impress upon you the importance of family. Ironic, I know, since if you are reading this you must feel that your own father deserted you for some cause that has little to do with your life now. But you have been born into an extraordinary family, by virtue of sheer luck. It was a family I was proud to be a part of, for however long, and one that is so excited for you to be a part of it. Of course, you may decide you don't want to be a part of it; I'd of course be disappointed, but it's your choice. Sirius detested his family (and for good reason), so he picked himself up and found a new one with the Potters, who treated him like their own son. I'm assuming that Harry will make it through all of this, and when you are born he'll be named godfather. Potters are excellent people, son, and I hope you and Harry share a bond like no other._

_Dora is calling me and so I must go. While most of me hopes you never read this, there's a small part of me that hopes that you are able to take away something for your own life. Who knows, maybe I'll be a terrible father even if I do survive this, but at least you'll have Dora, Harry, and Andromeda. If I'm a terrible father, then I would assume you wouldn't want to meet mine; Merlin, I feel more and more like him each day. But on the off chance you do want to meet him, I can assure you that Lyall Lupin is an excellent man._

_I love you son, and I hope to meet you soon._

_Love,_

_Remus_


	5. Chapter 5

Teddy stared at the page in a mixture of shock and awe. First and foremost, he was unsure why his father seemed so sure that they would never meet. It was a strange mix of sadness and creepiness, to put it mildly. Teddy had never met anyone in his life so sure of their own demise. However, there was also awe. Never in his wildest dreams did Teddy actually imagine his father speaking directly to _him_. Getting fatherly advice from his own father had seemed utterly impossible. Teddy closed the journal, and simply sat in the tree. Love, friends, and family. Thanks to his own family, Teddy supposed he had Victoire. He had plenty of friends, though he didn't intend on snogging of them, and family…Well, Teddy was realizing he had more family than he knew what to do with. Not only did he have his grandparents, but the Potters had in fact become his adoptive family. Teddy may not have had a mother or father, but he certainly had everything in between. He had everything his father had hoped he would—and didn't have _anything_ his father feared he would pass on.

_No_, Teddy thought to himself. _I do have a mother and father—they just aren't around._ The words in front of him proved that he _had_ parents who loved him more than life itself. Teddy had met his parents—he just couldn't remember it. But in reading his father's words, the young Lupin felt more than he ever had that he did know his parents. Their hopes and dreams for him had become a reality, and the Remus Lupin who wrote in the journal felt oddly familiar to Teddy. How did he know Teddy would read this page first? How did he know his son would have a penchant for mayhem? The more the boy thought about it, the more he realized that perhaps he was like his parents, and as cliché as it sounded, they were alive in their son. That didn't mean Teddy wasn't his own person—he certainly was. But he had somehow embodied his parents without having the slightest idea of just how subconsciously he had done it.

And maybe that's how it should stay. Teddy wanted to be himself, but he began to worry that by reading his father's journal, he would start to _consciously_ change himself, and he knew deep down he was in a time of his life where that would be likely. He was only fifteen, and very impressionable—he was still trying to figure out why he was _clumsy_ (genetics or a learned behavior to make himself likeable), much less his own personality and values. So, Teddy stared at the journal, wondering where it would take him if he opened it again. He didn't want to be sniveling, worrying, or sorry for himself as Remus claimed he once was—that was not who _Teddy_ was.

This led Teddy to think about the last line his father wrote, and a wave of guilt rushed through the boy as he recalled how he had treated his grandfather prior to visiting. How could Teddy _not_ have wanted to meet Lyall Lupin? Moreover, how had he managed to be so _mean_ to him earlier that very day?

Teddy stored the journal under his armpit as he climbed down the tree, walking back up to the cottage. He opened the door, peering inside.

"Grandpa?" He called out. Sure enough, Lyall was exactly where he said he would be—reading the paper at the kitchen table. The elder Lupin let out a small chuckle.

"Don't tell me you already read the whole thing?" He asked, eyes twinkling. Teddy shook his head and closed the door, walking a bit sheepishly into the kitchen.

"I…I couldn't. Not now, at least. He left me a message at the end—"

"Oh, you're one of _those_, then," Lyall drawled, rolling his eyes. "Your father did the same thing and it drove me absolutely crazy. What did it say?" He asked. Teddy shrugged.

"Lots. He…It was like he _knew _I wouldn't know him—he addressed it to me. But reading it got me thinking that perhaps I know more than I thought I did, and I may feel differently later but…I don't think I need to know more about my father. Not now, anyways," Teddy said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Does that make me crazy?" He asked. Lyall chuckled and shook his head.

"No, my boy, not in the slightest. I found myself wondering the same thing. If he were alive, neither of us would feel any need to read that journal. It's an odd thing that we feel drawn to it now." Teddy found himself nodding. It was exactly as he felt.

"I still want to keep it," Teddy insisted. "Just in case. But I feel better knowing I'm not crazy—well, no more than usual this time of the month. I want to apologize for how I acted earlier. I was mean to you, and I don't want to be." Lyall smiled, pulling a chair aside next to him.

"Teddy, you don't have to apologize, but I do appreciate it. I'll never understand how you must feel—I can only do my best to help you. I imagine that you may have found me selfish for wanting you here instead of your normal summers with the Potters," Lyall began, waiting for Teddy to sit down. The boy walked slowly to the kitchen table, taking a seat. "I felt selfish for a bit. After all, what's hanging with an old coot compared to running around with people closer to your own age?" Teddy sighed.

"I…I was upset at first. I suppose I took some of that out on you earlier. But I'm not upset now," Teddy insisted. "And you're not an old coot—really. Or selfish. You wanted to get to know me, and I wish I came here wanting the same—to get to know you, I mean," Teddy corrected. "But I do now. I want to get to know you—not my father." Lyall looked surprised.

"You want to know…_me_? I can assure you, I'm not special—"

"That's not what Remus told me," Teddy said with a smile. "And Harry sung your praises—that's for sure. I was just too daft to realize it. So," The boy began, placing his head in his hands. "Tell me about yourself, Grandpa. _Toi_…meem?" Teddy said, trying his best at the unfamiliar language. Lyall smiled.

"You're getting there, I promise. But I'm not sure I have much to tell!" He exclaimed. "I'm a pretty simple man, not very interesting I can tell you that much."

"Bullocks," Teddy said plainly. "I'll bet you're plenty interesting."

The elder Lupin smiled, and so began to tell Teddy about his rather uneventful childhood in Yorkshire. Lyall Romulus Lupin was born in Rennes in 1931 to Jacques Remus Lupin and Elise Clara Lupin née Foucier. When he was four years old, his father took a job in the ministry in Britain and moved his family to Yorkshire. The couple had two more children: Luna Elise and Lucas Mathias. Lyall was sorted into Hufflepuff, while his siblings were sorted into Slytherin. In 1957 he met Hope Howell, a muggle-born Gryffindor student in his year. The two were married, Lyall began his own work in the ministry, and their only son Remus was born in 1960. In 1964, their lives changed forever. Lyall had his last contact with his family shortly after, and has never heard from them since. His siblings moved to the states, and his parents passed away when Remus was in his early teens.

Lyall was smart, witty, kind and gifted at charms. He enjoyed painting, cooking, and singing while Hope played the piano. In his youth, he was an avid fan of Quidditch and even played on the school team. While he had grown up comfortable, he spent every dime he had on his son: looking for a cure, paying for his health expenses, etc. He took a low paying, menial desk job at the ministry while Hope worked as a receptionist at the local bank. They made ends meet, but barely.

Lyall had been a bit of a prankster, though not to the extent as his son had been. He was more interested in wit, and so his pranks were less showy and more related to puns. In his fourth year, for example, he Bewitched several charms books in the library to read "harm" wherever "charm" was found. Lyall was never caught, and he reckons several of these books still exist in the library today. Teddy was keen on finding them.

Lyall had also known Minerva McGonagall in school, and he supposed it was his fault the Marauders called her Minnie, as he had told Remus her nickname was such in school. This amused Teddy greatly, and Lyall had once again made the mistake of divulging too much information.

When he was in school, his family had a large black dog called "Garou." He later told this to Remus, who mentioned off handedly that he also had a large black dog. This led to the boy's "great announcement" of his feelings for Sirius Black. Lyall was unsurprised; in his earlier years, he too had seen love as quite fluid amongst genders, though he would reveal no more to Teddy.

The Lupins talked into the night about Lyall's past, and Teddy felt quite content knowing his grandfather all the much better.

"Merlin, it's getting late. I must be off to bed, my boy," Lyall remarked with a yawn. "You are more than welcome to roam about, of course, but I suspect you'll need your rest for tomorrow." Teddy nodded. Full moons were not his cup of tea. As Lyall went to his own room, Teddy marched upstairs to his. As soon as he laid his head on his pillow, Teddy was fast asleep. That night he dreamt of going into town with his grandfather, and told himself he would propose the outing after the moon had passed. And with that, night fell in the the Lupin cottage.


	6. Chapter 6

"Teddy, it's half past nine! Today is begun, _carpe diem_ my boy!"

Teddy groaned. He did not like mornings. He certainly didn't like mornings where he was woken up by a chipper voice, who as drawing the curtains in his room so that the sunlight pierced his vision.

"Just like your parents...really, I had them stay for a week in Surrey and all they did was lay in bed until noon. Come to think of it, you were born some nine months later, so perhaps—"

"Enough!" Teddy groaned, wiping at his eyes and sitting upright. "Please, _anything_ but that." Lyall's eyes twinkled.

"I'm only kidding, my boy, but I'm glad it got you up. Now, _vas-y_! We have places to go, people to see! I'll be downstairs with some _chocolatines_ and tea for breakfast, I'll see you down there."

Lyall, cheery as ever, exited Teddy's room and closed the door gingerly. Teddy was not amused. He contemplated going back to sleep for a moment, but knew if he did, he would hear some new traumatizing falsehood (or truth) about his creation, so he began to slowly rise out of bed and slip on a shirt.

"Crazy old man," he muttered, running his hand through his hair before opening up his bedroom door. He took the creaky stairs down to the kitchen, where Lyall eagerly awaited him.

"_Bonjour_, my sleeping beauty! Now, I've gotten us _chocolatines _from the _boulangerie _down the street—you'll have to come with me one of these days—and before you correct me, I will tell you anyone who calls them _pains au chocolats_ is wrong. In this house, we say-"

"Shhhh," Teddy interjected. "Your energy is suffocating. How are you like this?" The boys asked, groggily taking his seat. Lyall chuckled.

"Well, when you get to be my age, you're never quite sure how many years you'll have left," Lyall mused rather darkly. In fact, he would live until the ripe age of 110, but he had seen many younger than him leave the earth far before their time. "When that's the case, you make the most of every day!" Teddy shivered. He hoped he would never be quite like this. Of course, he would be, and his own grandchildren would complain to him the same way. But Teddy was quite content in his youthful ignorance.

"Alright...but Rennes isn't _going_ anywhere, is it? I mean, it will be there in an hour-"

"—an hour? No, we'll leave as soon as we can! _Mange_, drink, let us prepare!" Lyall exclaimed. Teddy winced. "Oh, right. _Let us prepare_," Lyall said quietly, winking.

"I still don't get how you are so happy all the time," Teddy grumbled. "I mean, you didn't have an easy life, and no offense—but you've certainly lost _more_ than your fair share. How do you do it?" Teddy asked. "How are you not…angry?" Lyall's smile faded somewhat, but it quickly resurfaced.

"Oh, I was angry, Teddy. For many years I hated myself, hated what I had done, cursed the world when my wife and son were taken from me far too young, despised my siblings for abandoning me when I needed them the most...but it doesn't do any good, you see." Lyall paused. "It's a change in mentality. You could look at it as I did for some time—I kept losing things, certain things were taken from me, etc. Or, you could flip it around."

"How do you flip all that around?" Teddy asked, incredulously. "I mean, I find myself angry and I don't even know what I had in the first place!"

"Easy, my boy! Take my siblings, and parents, for that matter, as an example. I had the most loving and doting parents, and the best siblings a boy could have, for over thirty years. Then, I didn't. But surely having _that_ for thirty years is better than never having it, and it's certainly better than a lifetime with a bunch of red caps. I also took part in the greatest love story I could imagine, and I can tell you right now I prefer those 20-odd years with Hope to a lifetime of being alone, or worse," Lyall flinched, "A lifetime of being married to the wrong person. Or, your father—for four years, I had the most wonderful, happiest little boy. Then, for 34 more, I had the most wonderful, kind, and thoughtful _werewolf_ son the world has ever seen! For a year, I had the most excellent daughter-in-law, and for about a month, you had the most amazing parents I've ever seen. Certainly, having had all of those things for a brief time is better than not at all?" Lyall asked. Teddy nodded slowly. When you put it that way…

"And now, I have the best grandparents and the greatest god-family I could imagine," Teddy finished. That did feel better. "Okay, I get it. I can see why you're so happy all the time. But how did you figure this out?" Teddy asked. Lyall simply smiled.

"Your _father_—that's how. I always wondered myself why he wasn't so angry all the time—and certainly he _did_ get angry, but he always swallowed it down. Apparently, he would think about things in a very similar way: for four years, he had the perfect childhood. For the next seven, he had the most perfect childhood he supposed a _werewolf_ could ever have. I asked him once and that's exactly what he told me." Teddy ruminated for a moment. How could a child have been so mature?

"But, by this same logic, if I did want to sleep until noon, I could have the best day that started at _noon_, rather than at nine in the morning?" Teddy quipped. Lyall shook his head.

"Sorry, Teddy, it doesn't work that way when your grandfather wants you to get your arse out of bed," He joked. "Now, eat up. We have a world to explore!"

After finishing breakfast and putting on a real outfit, Teddy was ready to head out with his grandfather. Lyall drove a 1982 Renault—something Teddy had never seen in his life. No one in his family drove anywhere, unless you counted the broken flying car at the Weasley's.

"You've never seen a Renault, my boy?" Lyall asked with a smile.

"I've never seen a _car_," Teddy replied.

The two got into the car and drove through Lyall's little neighborhood and into the city of Rennes. Teddy peered out the window in amazement: he never really got to see muggle cities much. Sure, there was London, but he didn't go to _muggle_ London. Lyall muttered French curses under is breath, dodging people just walking in the street—something about Brits on holiday, from what Teddy gathered. Eventually, Lyall drove the two to a more secluded part of town, and parked in front of a small little hut.

"Where are we?" Teddy asked as the car stopped. "This doesn't look like anything at all, it's just a street."

"This, my boy, is the most magical street in Rennes. You have Diagon Alley, we have Rue de Charlemagne. It may not look like much, but that is exactly the point. And this hut here…well, this is the most magical place of all. Come on, Teddy, let me introduce you to an old friend."

Inside the little hut, Teddy could tell that the same charm that made his grandfather's home look smaller than it actually was also was at play here. A second story seemed to appear out of nowhere, and everywhere Teddy looked was…chocolate. Umbrellas made of chocolate, registers made of chocolate, toy trains that whizzed around on a track—all chocolate. His eyes widened at the sights around him.

"_Bienvenue_," Lyall began, "To your father's favorite place in all of France."

Teddy gazed at his grandfather in amazement. "It's…incredible." Above him, a chocolate airplane flew and dropped truffles, one falling right in Teddy's own hands. "I—"

"—_Lyall, salut! Ça va, mon homme? Qui est_—" A man had appeared, adjusted his glasses, and paused. "_C'est…mais…_"

"_Rico, ce n'est pas Remus. C'est son fils—Teddy. Mais il ne parle pas français_," Lyall said, rolling his eyes but placing his hand on Teddy's shoulder. "Teddy, this is Rico—the greatest chocolatier known to wizardkind. Rico, Teddy is my grandson. He's staying with me this summer."

"Salut," Teddy said, waving his hand. Rico grinned, adjusted his glasses and bounded up to the young boy. "Teddy! You look…_comment-dit-on_, like a doppelganger of your father, especially in my own shop," he joked. "How do you like our home of _France_?"

Teddy smiled. "It is very nice, _monsieur_."

"Ah, Lyall, you have been teaching him!" Rico exclaimed. "But you should have told me you were coming—I would have brought out Remus' old favorites—"

"He's not his father," Lyall insisted. "I—"

"It's okay, grandpa," Teddy interjected. "I'd love to see what my father liked. Though I can't imagine what anyone _wouldn't_ like here," He smiled.

"A true _Lupin_!" Rico cheered. "_Trés bien_. Teddy, come, I'll show you around."

Teddy learned that Rico was a squib. Originally from Italy, he had come to France due to some muggle thing linking the countries that the boy couldn't be bothered to know about. He had established his chocolate shop about 35 years ago, and never looked back. While Rico couldn't practice magic himself, he absolutely loved it, and thought that the best way to spread his joy was through chocolate. Teddy couldn't complain, and after eating his weight in chocolate, came to see why his grandfather needed to bring him into town earlier rather than later—by the end of the day, Rico was normally of out of the "good" stuff (though everything looked _good_ to Teddy). As it turned out, when Remus was younger and the Lupins would go on the few vacations they took, this was always that first stop. Young Remus would run as fast he could through the store to find his beloved chocolate bars which he was convinced could cure anything. Darkly, Lyall used to joke with Hope and Rico that any sort of "cure" for lycanthropy would certainly come from cacao.

The last stop Rico brought Teddy to on his grand tour was a magic chocolate sculpture of a man.

"On the full moon, this chocolate man turns into a chocolate wolf. I loved your father dearly, and when I heard of his passing, I wanted to find some way of honoring him. It's not a best-seller, but it _does_ sell—I figure if anything can remove the prejudice your father faced, chocolate might."

Teddy stared at the chocolate in amazement.

"I, I hope you like it," Rico said quietly. "It's not much, but—"

"I _love_ it," Teddy interjected. "How many can I get?"


	7. The Last Chapter

"I don't _want_ to go," Teddy said flatly. "Can't you tell Harry to come back and get me another time?" His amber eyes glared furiously. "I want to stay _here_." Lyall chuckled.

"Teddy, you were supposed to go back last week. I can't keep you here—school starts in just a few days, and I've already had to tell Harry off _once_—I can't do that again. You don't want him thinking you don't like staying there, do you?" Lyall asked.

"No," Teddy muttered. "But I like it here too."

"Then visit!" Lyall exclaimed. "I'll be here waiting for you until I can't wait anymore and I fetch you myself," he joked. "Just because you're leaving doesn't mean you can't come back—I told another young man that once."

"Who?" Teddy mumbled, still somewhat spiteful.

"A young Remus Lupin," Lyall said quietly, "Who went on and on about liking the chocolate here better than at Hogwarts, and who finally admitted the real reason he didn't want to leave was fear. But you aren't scared, are you?" Lyall asked, joking a bit. But Teddy wasn't laughing. "…Are you?"

"What if you _aren't_ here when I come back!" Teddy exclaimed. "What if you go and die like the rest of them, and I never get to see you again? What if this _is _the last time, and it took me ten bloody years to realize everything I had been missing by _not_ seeing you?" He huffed. Lyall instinctively reached his arms around Teddy.

"I'm not going anywhere, my boy. I'm not sick, I'm not dying, and there are certainly no dark wizards here to get me. I've lived in this house for nearly fifteen years, and I'm not planning in the next fifteen being any different." Lyall held the sobbing boy close to his heart. "I'm not going anywhere. In fact," He said, musing, "I can write you letter until you're absolutely sick of me. Dear little Teddy Bear this, and dear little Teddy Bear that, until you start to dread the sight of your own bloody owl. How does that sound, my boy?"

"Good," Teddy mumbled, still sobbing into Lyall's chest. "_Better_ than good."

Later that night, when Teddy was just finishing packing his things, he saw his—and his father's—journal sitting on the nightstand. Perhaps this was the time for some fatherly wisdom. Teddy crawled into bed, turned off the lights—save the desk lamp by the bed—and turned to the first entry in his father's journal, seeing the same boyish scrawl from the "property of" page he had seen earlier.

_I'm terrified. Yes, going to Hogwarts has always been my dream, but what if no one likes me? What if I don't make any friends? Worse, what if I do and they find out about me? It's safe here, with my mum and dad. They take care of me, feed me chocolate from France. What happens if the chocolate at Hogwarts isn't as good? What if, for all my childhood, I've been so looking forward to the chocolate there and it isn't what I've built it up to be in my mind? My mum says Honeydukes will be right next to the shack I transform in, but I think she's missed the point. The chocolate here is good, safe, kind. There's plenty of chocolate out there that isn't like the chocolate I have here._

_I don't think I'm really writing about chocolate. I'm just worried about leaving my bubble that I've been so cozy in. And I know my parents don't want to see me go—my mother puts on a brave face, and my father has told me how wonderful "Minnie" is and how kind Albus Dumbledore has been to make sure I have everything I need…but it's not the same. I might not even be any good at magic—I've heard that we learn how to kill werewolves in defense class. I can't be good at that! What kind of werewolf learns how to kill its own?_

_My parents say I have nothing to be afraid of but that simply isn't true. People aren't like them out there in the world. My dad gave me this journal to write my fears in—by giving them truth, it's the only way I can get over them or some nonsense like that. I guess I'm worried that when I come back home, it won't be the same ever again. My life won't be the same, and it'll all be because I left home. Maybe I could get a job with Mum at the muggle place she works. They don't ask any questions when she takes off work for me, why would I be treated any differently there?_

_My dad says that's nonsense and that I'll be perfectly good at magic and school. He says defense is much more than killing werewolves—something he claims simply doesn't happen, which I know isn't true. Besides, he says I might be good at charms, since that was his strongest subject. I'm not sure I'll be good at anything, except for maybe History of Magic—I do like to read._

_I doubt I'll write much in this journal, but if I do, I surely hope no one reads it. They'll find all my fears and weaknesses and secrets and make fun of me for it. I told my dad this, but he says I shouldn't worry so much. No one at Hogwarts is making a living reading the diaries of eleven-year-old boys._

_Tomorrow I go on the train, and in just three weeks I have to go through my first transformation without my parents. They say Hogwarts has a great lady who will take care of me, but I can't help but picture the horrible ladies at St. Mungo's who treat me like garbage. I suppose I can't be too mad at them—it's not their fault they don't see me as a boy. I am considered a monster to most of the wizarding community that they've begrudgingly made me a part of._

_Maybe I'll write after a week, if I don't go home first._

_-Remus_

Teddy paused and sniffled. Had his father really thought so little of himself as a boy? Remus Lupin had been the best defense teacher his godfather and all their friends said they had! And never in his life had Teddy learned how to kill werewolves—though maybe the professors thought it best _not _to teach that to students in his presence, knowing he'd blow up at any mention of it.

For all of young Remus' ramblings, however, Teddy understood why the boy wouldn't want to go to Hogwarts, especially not to leave his parents. Teddy could almost laugh—he was sure he had told Harry he didn't want to go see his grandfather the same way he told Lyall he didn't want to go back to England. But it was different for him—sure, the chocolate had been better, but there wasn't a reason not to go back to school. Teddy loved Hogwarts: his friends, his classes, everything about the place. He just wished his father had felt the same. Teddy closed his father's journal, placed it in his suitcase, and dozed off to sleep.

Of course, Remus did write in his journal after a week—and for weeks and weeks after that. For all his lies saying he went home to see his mum, Remus never left Hogwarts except during official breaks. Following entries were more about the pranks his friends pulled and less about his worries—though there were plenty of those too. But each ensuing year, Remus never once wrote again about not wanting to go to school. In fact, he dreamed about it.

Teddy, too, would dream of Hogwarts that night. Only he dreamed of going to school with his father. It was hard to imagine what an eleven-year-old Remus Lupin would look like, but the boy's subconscious did its best. He imagined telling Remus it would all be alright, and that Hogwarts was nothing to be scared of. He imagined what it would be like to hold his father's hand, telling him that _his_ father was always going to be there—even when Remus could not. He imagined what telling his father about his achievements in the War would be like, and how the little boy would beam knowing how braved and loved he truly was. In short, Teddy dreamed of what could never be. But isn't that what dreams are for?

_FIN_


End file.
